


The Right Sort

by nightshifted



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 19:47:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3353135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightshifted/pseuds/nightshifted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You got plans, English?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Right Sort

"You got plans, English?"

Peggy looks up from the newspaper spread out in front of her. "Pardon? Plans for what?"

Angie wags her thumb over her shoulder at the poster on the wall behind her. _Sweethearts!_ the poster screams across the top in bright red letters. Below it, an illustration of a well-coiffed man kissing the rosy cheek of a blonde woman with bright red lipstick, a heart of roses framing their smiling faces. Below that, an image of a box of chocolates and _Bakerman's chocolate - the sweetest Valentine of all!_

"Ah, no, I'm afraid not," Peggy says. "How about you, Angie? Any eligible bachelors strike your fancy?"

"I got work," Angie sighs. "Gets crazy busy here on Valentine's Day. But tips are good; can't complain." She twirls her orders pencil around the automat. "Bringing your sweetheart here's kind of a cheap date though, if you ask me."

"Well," Peggy says, "I suppose it's the time spent with the person you care about that matters the most."

Angie's brows knit together. "No man's time is worth more than a tender mutton chop from Keens over on 36th, but keep 'em dreaming, honey."

Peggy sips her coffee. "Surely you would make an exception for the right sort."

"I dunno, Peggy," Angie says, scrunching up her nose, "I'm starting to think there just isn't a right sort of man for me."

Peggy catches the hesitation behind Angie's playful tone, the tiny flinch of worry at having said too much too plainly, like she's bracing herself for Peggy's condemnation or rejection of her as a person. Peggy reaches across the table and gives Angie's hand a reassuring squeeze.

"It's quite all right not to fancy men, Angie, right now or ever," Peggy says softly, "They are rather inclined to be ill-mannered brutes."

Relief floods Angie's features. "Tell that to my mother! _When are you getting married, Angela? Why don't you ever bring home a nice boy like your cousin Francesca?_ Francesca, by the way, only got married because she got herself knocked up at fifteen, but _I'm_ the irresponsible one."

Peggy smiles affectionately. "So if not a man, who have you been daydreaming about in the past few weeks? Don't think I haven't noticed you staring off into the distance."

Angie rolls her eyes, but her cheeks flush pink. "That's enough prying, English. Got everything you need?"

"Yes," Peggy says, nodding. "Thank you, Angie."

\--

The corner shop has Valentine's Day trinkets on display through the window, which is why Peggy enters. She has her eye on a stack of cards resting on a shelf near the door when the shop owner pops his head up from behind the counter.

"Good morning, Miss. Looking for anything in particular?"

"Browsing for a Valentine's Day card," Peggy says, flipping through a few loose cards.

The first one, with an illustration of a bowl of popcorn, reads, _I'm gonna POP you a CORNY question... will you be my valentine?_ The next, beside a cheery snowman, _There SNOW doubt I want you for my Valentine._ The one after that, an owl, _OWL be yours if you'll be mine!_

"Ah, young love," the shop owner comments, leaning over the counter. "I've got themed ones for every occupation and hobby. What does the lucky lad do for a living?"

"She's an actress," Peggy says, carefully enunciating the words. She glances up in time to catch the shop owner's look of surprise.

He clears his throat. "We have a fine selection of cards for other occasions over here," he says, readjusting his glasses uncomfortably over his nose. "Miss, if you would just follow me."

Peggy ignores him and continues rifling through the valentines. A brush and comb combo; _Don't give me the BRUSH-off! We would make a swell COMBINATION._ Peggy smiles at that one; Angie would love it.

"I'll take this one," Peggy says, bringing the card to the counter.

"For your friend," the shop owner tries weakly, "the actress."

Peggy digs out some change and drops it down on the counter. "If it does its job, she won't very well be just a friend anymore, will she?"

Peggy arches a brow challengingly, picks up her card, and leaves without looking back.

\--

The automat is bustling with activity when Peggy pushes through the revolving doors. It takes her a moment to spot Angie, hunched over a booth, scribbling someone's order onto her notepad. She's all smiles, even though Peggy knows that she's on the tail end of a busy double shift. As soon as Angie moves away from the table she's waiting on, she looks up at the ceiling as though in silent prayer. A smile tugs at Peggy's lips.

When Angie finally spots Peggy standing by the entrance, her eyes light up. She weaves between the tables until she's standing in front of her, pencil tucked behind her ear, slightly out of breath.

"Peggy! What are you doing here?"

"Angie, I was hoping... is there still a seat for me?"

"Just the one at the end of the counter with the wobbly stool," Angie says. "All yours if you want it."

Peggy nods. "That's fine."

"All right, but you gotta promise you won't file a personal injury lawsuit against us if you hurt yourself," Angie says, heading behind the counter. Louder, to ensure she's heard over the noise of the automat, "I need this job, English!"

Peggy walks to the end of the counter and slides onto the last stool. It is, as Angie had warned her, wobbly. Angie appears at the other side of the counter.

"What would you like, Pegs?"

"Coffee would be lovely," Peggy tells her.

"Comin' right up!"

A moment later, Angie slides a cup of coffee across the counter, a piece of biscotti with tiny heart-shaped sprinkles wedged on the saucer.

"On the house," Angie tells her with a wink. She leans closer, chin resting on her fisted hands, and lowers her voice. "For being the cutest customer in here tonight, but don't let the gentleman in booth C know I said that."

Peggy doesn't think she's ever wanted to kiss anyone more than in that instant, but she settles for playful indignation. "What do you mean, _tonight_?"

Angie rolls her eyes dramatically. "Oh, c'mon, Peggy. Don't make me say it. You know that stiff English fella you're always hanging out with is way cuter."

Peggy laughs. "Well, no argument there."

"I'd love to hang around and chat, but I gotta close today," Angie says with a grimace. "And Donna called in sick, but I know it's just because her fiancé surprised her with a visit, so we're a little strapped."

"Go, work," Peggy tells her. "I'll be right here eating my self-esteem biscotti."

Angie flashes a smile and leaves. Peggy sips at her coffee and pretends like the heat on her cheeks is a result of the hot beverage steaming into her face.

\--

The clock reads nine, and only one couple remains, huddled together in the corner booth. Angie walks over to them and gently informs them that the automat is closing. Once they've left, Angie locks the doors, draws the blinds, and dims the lights. Peggy, who has grown rather fond of the wobbly stool, smiles at Angie when she starts wiping down the counter.

"Should I take that as my cue to leave?"

Angie looks up. "Should I bribe you with another biscotti?"

"If memory serves," Peggy teases, "it was the sweet talk that accompanied the biscotti that convinced me to stay."

Angie grins, tucks a curl of hair behind her ear. "Anyone ever tell you you talk too much?"

"Just you, Angie," Peggy says affectionately.

Peggy pulls out the card she'd bought earlier and tucks it discreetly beneath the bills she leaves as a tip. _Angie_ , she'd written on the back, _Thank you for all that you've done for me. You have moved me in ways that you will never know. -P_

In hindsight, it seems inadequate, and Peggy almost pulls the card away at the last minute, but Angie's already too close for her to be able to do that without her noticing.

"It was on the house," Angie reminds her.

"Doesn't mean I can't leave a tip."

Angie notices the red corner of the card peeking out and pushes the bills out of the way to get at it. Her face lights up at the realization of what it is.

"This is an awful pun," Angie says, laughing. She flips it over, her eyes moving quickly over the words. "Peggy..."

Peggy wrings her hands together. "It's a little juvenile, I admit, but I assure you the message is sincere."

"Peggy," Angie repeats, quietly, with purpose.

Angie reaches under the counter to grab something, then walks all the way around the counter to Peggy's side, stopping a step away. The nervous energy bundled up in Angie's body is palpable.

"I got you somethin'," Angie says, pulling a small box of chocolates from behind her back. "I was gonna just leave it with Ms. Fry at the front desk, anonymous and all that. She's good at keeping secrets, so long as she thinks they're harmless. One time, Carol had an appointment to get a sixth toe removed, and long story short, no one ever found out about it. Well, I guess that's not a great example, because I know about it, and now so do you, but it wasn't Ms. Fry who spilled."

"Angie," Peggy cuts in. Her body buzzes with tender affection.

Angie flushes and practically throws the chocolates at Peggy. "Anyway, Happy Valentine's Day."

Peggy puts the box of chocolates down on the counter and reaches for Angie, taking her hands and pulling her closer until she's nestled between Peggy's legs. The stool wobbles, and Angie places a hand on Peggy's shoulder to steady herself. Peggy stretches, tilts her head up, and Angie leans down to meet her halfway.

The kiss is tentative and sweet, and Angie's hand curls around the collar of Peggy's shirt. Angie is warm, and soft, and makes a tiny gasping noise when Peggy's fingertips glide to Angie's waist.

Angie pulls away, eyes wandering over Peggy's face. She flicks her tongue over her own lips, lightly stained with Peggy's lipstick, before closing the distance again, this time more insistently.

The stool wobbles again, and Angie leans harder, kisses faster, tries out a brush of her tongue, a curve of her lips, making pleased sounds when she discovers what Peggy likes. Peggy's hands slide to the small of Angie's back, pulling her closer, as the cloudy warmth of being kissed by a pretty girl flushes her skin. It makes Peggy believe she could have this, despite the complications of her life. It makes Peggy _want_.

"Y'know," Angie says breathlessly when she pulls away again, "I think I just found the right sort."

Peggy laughs. "I'll have you know that I'm anything but a cheap date."

Angie's eyes flicker momentarily to Peggy's lips. "You gonna prove that to me, English, or just brag about it?"

"How do you feel about dancing?" Peggy asks then.

Angie's eyes light up. "Really?"

Peggy smiles, kisses Angie again. "Yes, really."

Angie beams. "Jeez, Peggy, if I'd known that you'd be so easily swayed by free biscotti and a li'l charm, I would've tried it the first time you walked in here."

"I suppose we have a lot of time to make up," Peggy says, tightening her grip around Angie's waist.

Angie leans in until her lips ghost over Peggy's. "I suppose," Angie mumbles against Peggy's mouth, "we'd better get started."

 

_fin._


End file.
